


Miscalculations

by ephieshine



Category: Naruto
Genre: Canon Het Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Groping, Post-War, chunin exam, seductive Temari, some consent issues tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 23:12:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2206638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephieshine/pseuds/ephieshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The two top strategists of Konoha and Suna tend to miscalculate when it comes to each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miscalculations

A yawn fought its way to Shikamaru’s lips.  


He frowned. He’d been trying to hold that back, knowing that his ANBU mask wasn’t designed to accommodate yawns, and indeed it had almost slipped as his jaw pushed it downwards. 

He sighed. 

They were nearing Suna now, thank _god_ , because being swathed in sweltering heat and wholly unpredictable sandstorms while travelling with a contingent of complaining, sweaty shinobi wasn’t something he wanted to experience _ever again._ Not that he’d be given the chance, really, because the Hokage would force him to anyway. 

This was his first time travelling to Sunagakure by foot, because usually he’d just use a Transportation scroll and be done with it in seconds. But with the first Chuunin exams after the war, all the villages were being cautious and tried to give no reason for other villages to look upon them suspiciously. So that was why Tsunade had ordered the entire squadron of jonin and prospective chuunin to march there by foot. It probably wasn’t the greatest idea to wear out those about to take the exam, but it was all delicate politics. The Godaime Hokage herself was marching alongside them with a sour expression on her face and a bottle that was discreetly wrapped up in inconspicuous brown paper in her hand. Her cheeks were tinged with pink and Shikamaru was _sure_ it wasn’t from the heat. 

Indistinct figures appeared ahead of them, and their party slowed to a stop. 

A small group of shrouded Suna-nin were visible before them, and before anyone could stop him, a figure with bright yellow hair had bounded forward to greet the Kazekage. 

“Naruto,” Shikamaru sighed. The Hokage looked annoyed, but it was _Naruto_ , and he was a hero these days. Besides, the Kazekage was smiling a very rare smile at the blonde boy. 

Shikamaru glanced at the figures next to the Kazekage, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw another blonde, though _her_ expression was distinctly different from Naruto’s. As a newly-appointed advisor to her little brother, Temari didn’t seem to smile at all these days … not that he’d seen her very often lately. 

Apart from her hair and face, not much else was visible because all the Suna-nin, like them, were clothed in shapeless outfits that covered them completely to counter the sand. But Shikamaru knew it was her, even before he saw the massive, familiar fan by her side, just from the way she poised herself. 

They’d known each other as opponents at the disastrous Chuunin exams, then as close comrades during the war. They had entrusted their lives to each other, and they had protected each other’s backs unfailingly. 

After the war, he had been her guide around Konoha again a year prior on a diplomatic meeting of the Kages. She hadn’t had much to do, so they’d spent a lot of time together. Being a guide was troublesome, but he’d showed her around Konoha thoroughly: he’d taken her to festivals, taken her to the best dango stores, and he’d even brought her to a bar to try some of Konoha’s famed wood-brewed beer. That was when things had taken a turn for the worse. 

He quickly learned that Temari was _not_ good with alcohol. After her first drink, she had begun to vehemently deny that she was drunk – that was the first sign of drunkenness. He knew from experiences with a very drunk Ino that it wasn’t the best idea to argue with a drunk girl, so he’d let her have a couple more drinks. He calculated that after three or four, she’d get to the stage of drunkenness in which she was pliant enough to take back to her hotel, at which point his long day would be over and he could finally return home. When she’d gotten to three drinks though, she became _extremely_ touchy, to the point that he wondered if it counted as second base if the girlhad groped _him_ in all places unholy. Then he remembered that it didn’t matter either way because he’d never speak of this disaster to anybody. But Ino had found out anyway. 

He called his actions _necessary_. Ino had called them _virtuous_. “That’s why,” she explained, “she’s going to pursue you now. She sees you as a challenge.” She’d ignored his look of horror and swatted his arm hard when he’d coldly shut down her suggestion that he send her a love letter once she was back in Suna. Despite heatedly denying she was his girlfriend to the people who mistook them for a couple for the last days she was in Konoha, before she left, she’d kissed him passionately on the lips, completely sober. And the only reason he hadn’t run away was because he was in shell-shocked confusion – a state which, as a genius, wasn’t all that familiar to him. 

Now he was here, staring at the very troublesome sister of the Kazekage. 

And then he caught her eye and Temari smirked at him, much to his alarm. How did she recognize him with the mask on? Maybe it was the ponytail that distinguished him … she’d always laughed that it made him look like a human pineapple. 

He sighed again. Maybe he didn’t want to see her smile after all. Whenever she did, he suspected that she was up to something. And no good would come of it. 

::~:: 

Sand. 

Sand everywhere. 

Sand on the roads, sand in the air, buildings made of sand, and even signposts – _signposts!_ – made of sand. The Village Hidden in the Sand didn’t seem like a very creative name anymore. 

The lodgings were comfortable, at least. There were two tall buildings (made of sand) reserved for those from Konoha taking the examination, and another two for the overseeing examiners and Kage entourages. He didn’t know where the other buildings for the genin were, which was probably intended to stop any cheating. In other words, those taking the exam wouldn’t be able to kill off or injure any rivals if they didn’t know the location. And it wasn’t a gruesome overestimate of the lengths to which some examinees would go, because he knew contestants had really been killed before the examination in the past. 

The hotel was pristine white inside, but what was most important was the cool air that hit him like a rush of drugs. He deliberated taking off his mask to let the breeze cool his face, but weighed the disadvantages, ultimately deciding that the Hokage’s wrath wouldn’t be worth it. 

After being assigned their rooms, most of the shinobi from Konoha just shuffled wearily off to bed, but after looking around his room and taking off his mask, Shikamaru decided to brave the streets once again despite the heat he’d only just escaped. 

His decision to do so was _definitely_ not influenced by the fact that he hadn’t seen a certain sister of the Kazekage since the brief smirk. Definitely not. 

He sighed. If only Chouji and Ino were here, they’d be taking his mind off unimportant things. Tsunade had chosen select jonin to accompany her, and as a Junior Advisor, Shikamaru _had_ to go. Naruto came along too, due to his personal relationship with the Kazekage, and the fact that he was tipped to be the next Hokage. 

Shikamaru didn’t particularly want to spend time with Naruto. It wasn’t that he didn’t _like_ him – it was more that the other boy had an inescapable fanclub now, even in Suna. 

Also, they didn’t exactly think along the same wavelength. 

The only other person his age Shikamaru could say he knew relatively well from Konoha who had come would have to be Neji. Neji’s personality was bearable (a label which Shikamaru gave to anyone who didn’t talk a lot). But Neji was a jonin sensei now whose his students were taking part in the exam, despite numerous warnings from other shinobi that it was too early to do so. This meant that he wouldn’t be travelling with the Hokage’s entourage. However, Neji had had faith in his team, which consisted of his headstrong youngest cousin Hanabi, and her teammates: a stubborn boy and a rather meek but well-trained boy. To disbelieving comrades, Neji had insisted in his calm, don’t-argue-unless-you-want-your-internal-organs-ruptured-by-my-not-so-gentle-fist tone of voice, and after that, nobody had argued with him. Shikamaru felt sorry for his genin students. 

A strange shiver danced its way across his skin as the heat hit him. It wasn’t the sort of heat Konoha experienced in the summer, the kind that could be ignored as long as you had a popsicle in hand, because this heat was suffocating. The air was stagnant and dry, but it still managed to carry speckles of sand that clogged one’s nostrils upon inhaling too deeply. The haziness also muted his senses, muffling the sounds around him and obscuring his view. 

Shikamaru headed towards the nearest sand building with flashy signs before realizing it was a bar – a bar that, judging by the numerous crashes and unmistakable woman’s voice, currently contained a very drunk and very peeved Godaime Hokage - and he backed away hastily with a grimace. He pitied the poor sods that had to deal with her. 

So the bar wasn’t an option. He looked around despairingly. It had been a short excursion, but he wasn’t very motivated at the moment and all he wanted to do was return to the hotel, where air conditioning would blow his worries away. 

And that was when the biggest worry came. 

“I’ve been looking for you,” whispered a voice from behind him. For a shinobi, it was never – _ever_ – good to hear something like that whispered from behind you, and it was _especially_ bad when the voice belonged to a female. 

Oh, and it probably wasn’t good that the cool metal edge of a sharp kunai was pressing against his throat either. 

He could feel a soft female body pressed up against his back, and that was disconcerting in itself even before he realized that he _liked_ it. It didn’t help that he knew who this was as a pale hand trailed lightly across his abdomen. 

“If this is your idea of a rematch,” he began, pausing to lick dry lips, “I’m not interested in fighting you.” 

He heard a chuckle as the blade (and the body) moved away from him, and he turned slowly to see the very person he’d denied he was looking for. 

“No hello?” Temari pouted, a mischievous glint in her eye. 

That look in her eye did funny things to his insides. He glared at her with all the vehemence he could muster. “Not if you insist on scaring the shit out of me when we meet,” he deadpanned. 

If he was honest to himself, he would have to admit that his heart was beating rather quickly, and it certainly wasn’t _all_ from fear. 

Temari grinned at him, and he noticed that she had completely even, white teeth – albeit a bit sharp-looking. She donned her usual black yukata that fitted her curves rather daringly for a kunoichi… 

“It’s good to see you, Shikamaru,” she said, that grin still on her face as she leaned forward. His eyes widened. 

She kissed him on the cheek. 

And as she did so, her yukata fell open a bit more, and because he was avoiding her eyes, his gaze settled on the tops of her _ample_ breasts and just couldn’t seem to leave. 

Wow, was that awkward. 

“Uh,” he said quite intelligently. He cursed to himself. There were situations in which even geniuses couldn’t find anything to say. Like _now_. 

She smiled at him sweetly. Innocently. As if she hadn’t planned it all along,hadn’t neglected to wear a bra. 

“I’ll see you around then?” she said, that grin reappearing, and he gave another unintelligible response to that as she turned and strode away. 

Did she _know_ that she was swaying her hips? 

::~:: 

Everyone pitied the slender Sand boy who had been matched with Hyuga Hanabi in the preliminary matches. 

This year, Sunagakure had decided that the preliminary matches would come first, then the three-day Suna equivalent of the Forest of Death (surprise: it was the Desert of Death). This made it so that all the skills of the genin that year would be showcased to the public in the matches, whether they were formidable or not. 

It was definitely the latter case for Hanabi’s opponent. 

He had taken one look at those intense Hyuga eyes and nearly peed himself. But you had to give him credit for not forfeiting right there and then. He had forced himself to cease trembling, and circled the Hyuga girl warily after Kankarou, the invigilator, had given his signal for the match to start. 

It was probably the worst match-up, because the boy used puppets controlled by chakra threads, and Hanabi had sliced all the chakra threads with her Gentle Fist within the first three seconds of the match. 

The boy froze up and seemed to seek guidance from his sensei, a stern-looking, scarred man, in the stands. From the terrified look on the boy’s face, Shikamaru guessed that his sensei wasn’t the sympathetic kind. 

As a confident Hanabi began her Sixty-Four Palms technique, Shikamaru had to look away from the boy being pummelled. 

… And stare in horror at the blonde sitting next to him in the same tight-fitting outfit she’d had on the previous evening. 

When had she gotten there? Hadn’t it been a nondescript, meek, _safe_ Suna-nin beside him when he had sat down? He had specifically chosen this seat in the back rows to avoid being found by the most troublesome girl he’d ever met. 

(Shikamaru later noticed this nondescript, meek Suna-nin wandering around in the stands with an irritated look on his face as he searched for an empty seat.) 

Temari noticed his expression and responded with a smirk before looking away, an innocent look on her face. But it didn’t take the genius that Shikamaru was to figure out she wasn’t done toying with him yet. He sent a quick prayer upwards to the gods – in whom he didn’t believe – before turning his attention back to the arena. 

The match was finally halted and the boy was carried out on a stretcher, unconscious. His puppets were unceremoniously dragged along by the disgruntled junior medics. Hanabi looked triumphant, and seemed to delight in the cheers she was receiving. Neji, who was in the box designated for Konoha shinobi, gave a single nod of approval. 

The next match was between two girls, one from Suna and the other from Ame. Suna-nin were truly sheltered in their microcosm of sand; anybody else would have known Ame-nin specialized in genjutsu. As it was, the Suna girl was trapped in a genjutsu immediately. 

Suddenly, Shikamaru felt a hand slide along his thigh. A _warm, feminine_ hand. His jaw went rigid, but gave no other indication that he was being groped by the girl beside him. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself; she too maintained an innocent look on her face. 

The Hand turned inwards, drawing circles along his inner thigh. 

His neck went rigid too. He desperately tried to focus on the match, which had finally taken a turn in favour of the Suna girl; she’d broken out of the genjutsu and had decided on charging the Ame genjutsu-user head-on. It was a good move – genjutsu-users tended to lack training in taijutsu. 

He jumped slightly, stifling a hiss. The Hand had scratched (non-too-gently) his inner thigh through the cloth of his pants – and the Hand had very sharp nails. 

The Hand did it again, this time eliciting an actual hiss from him. But it most certainly wasn’t a hiss of pain at the muted sting, and she knew it. He could feel her cat-like satisfaction. She was practically purring. 

That was it. He had to stop this before an even more troublesome problem … _arose_. 

He firmly grasped the wrist of the Hand and lifted it off of his lap. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a distinctive pout on Temari’s face. That was a turn for the better – pouts didn’t bother him nearly as much as her adventurous hands on his virtuous lap. Thank goodness the Konoha jonin on his other side hadn’t noticed their tryst. 

Turning his attention back to the match, he watched with feigned interest as the Ame kunoichi circled backwards warily, now on the defensive. Typical for a genjutsu user, she didn’t have much up her sleeve after the initial genjutsu had been broken through. Her opponent was becoming more confident, but also more reckless; she cornered the Ame-nin with sand clones from the sides while the real one attacked from above. Her in-flight attack created an unnecessary opening that would have gotten her killed if the enemy had been a bit more adept. As it was, the genjutsu-user’s fumble with the clones cost her the match. 

Cheers erupted from the Suna audience; the match was a well-needed boost for their village morale following the embarrassing loss against Hanabi. 

Shikamaru nearly groaned – in annoyance? or in pleasure? – as the Hand crept back, taking advantage of the noisy stadium. 

This time, it pinched him, perilously close to his groin. 

She was punishing him for pushing her away. But the punishment didn’t last long, and the Hand was soon back to drawing scandalous circles on his thigh. The stadium quietened again, but he couldn’t even concentrate enough to hear the next match being announced, because the Hand was simply too distracting. 

He knew he couldn’t push her away again – she’d just come back with a vengeance. He also couldn’t stand up and leave because she’d be furious, and furious girls were the most troublesome type. 

The only choice he had was to stay and endure being molested; that was the only way to keep her from getting angry. 

But remaining her victim had its own problems, and the increasing tightness of his pants was the major problem. Her touches had done _much_ more than just annoy him. 

His eyes widened and he gulped for air as the Hand moved upwards still, to the point that another centimeter would lead her to discover his growing problem. And then there would be no turning back. 

The match seemed to be going well, he thought vaguely, judging by the enthusiastic cheers in the crowd. Apparently, Temari thought so too. 

“Everyone seems to be so _excited_ about this match,” she said slyly, and when he didn’t reply, she pinched a very sensitive area near his groin. His hands clenched so hard his knuckles cracked. 

Out of sheer desperation, he made a grunting noise of agreement. 

Placated, the Hand continued its assault on him, and its ventures even higher were making his breath grow short and harsh. 

And then, the Hand was on his erection. 

He froze. 

The Hand paused, and he knew the girl to which the Hand belonged was surprised, having encountered something she hadn’t expected. Well, how was he supposed to help it, when a curvy girl – who wasn’t wearing a _bra_ , for heaven’s sake! – was groping him and he was powerless to stop her? 

His brow furrowed in annoyance, but at least she would stop now … 

A miscalculation. He had overestimated her innocence, not realizing that her response would simply be delight at finding a new toy. 

He saw her smile widen out of the corner of his eye, a predatory gleam in her beryl eyes. He felt like the deer after which his clan had been named, cornered by a lioness. 

The Hand began to squeeze gently, in turn making him squeeze his eyes shut. Another small hiss escaped him, and he could feel waves of smug satisfaction emanating from her as she continued the discreet movements. He hated to admit it, but it felt so good he was fighting to keep his hips from arching into the Hand. 

_Why me?_ he begged as he cast his eyes heavenward. It was probably he never got up early enough on Sundays to attend religious gatherings. Oh, and possibly the fact that he was a shinobi who killed people for a living. Right. 

But no, it was probably neither because his sense of logic told him that omnipotent floating men in the skies simply didn’t exist. He was being subjected to this because he was simply unlucky enough to have met this most troublesome girl. 

At one point, he felt the scratch from her fingernails again. The sharp sensation was quickly followed by firmer squeezes of his erection through his pants. Pleasure lanced through him, and he was gripping the sides of his seat so tightly he feared the wood would crack. 

The crowd began to cheer, though not as enthusiastically as before, as a Suna-nin limped off, his face having been shredded by a victorious Inuzuka girl and her chocolate-coloured dog. 

She let out an impatient huff and before he knew it, the Hand began to fumble at his waistband. 

His head turned towards her, expression indignant. Now _that_ was too far. 

Her grin grew even wider, revealing a pointy canine as the Hand scratched along his bare abdomen. She could probably feel the shallow rise and fall of his breaths, the quick thrum of his pulse. 

And she was loving every second of his agony. 

When she seemed to resolve that there were much more interesting things to play with than his abdominal muscles, he gulped again. Audibly. 

There was a faint cough from his other side, and Shikamaru realized despondently that the Suna-nin on his other side had finally realized what was going on. He felt like he was about to die in embarrassment, but he decided it was too embarrassing to die with a full-blown erection. 

When he had finally deigned to endure the torture she would inflict on him, a loud shout made him jump. 

“Shikamaru!” Naruto’s jarring voice yelled. 

The Hand whipped away immediately; the reflexes of a true kunoichi. 

“Baa-chan is looking for you,” he announced loudly, and it was moments like this – moments during which he had an erection courtesy of the woman playing innocent right beside him at a public, _international_ event – that made him glad Naruto was so unobservant. “She says you’re supposed to be in the Hokage escort box for safety.” 

_For safety_ . Naruto didn’t know the extent to which those words were true. Normally, Shikamaru would have hated to have to put up with the politics that came along with being the youngest advisor to have ever served a Kage, but now he jumped at the opportunity to go. 

“Sorry, I forgot,” he lied. In reality, he had had to slink away from the entourage using all the stealth he’d acquired over a decade of being a shinobi to get away. “I’ll be right there.” 

Hastily, he grabbed a pamphlet from the ground, holding it at an awkward angle at his hip to hide his predicament. 

Naruto finally noticed Temari. His eyes widened. “Hey, did you sneak off to be with your girlfriend?” he exclaimed. 

“Baka!” Temari snarled, a flush creeping over her cheeks. Her embarrassment _now_ made him want to roll his eyes. “He’s not my boyfriend. Why would I go out with a loser like him?” Embarrassment seemed to cause intensify her attempts to emasculate him. 

Naruto squinted at the two of them, but decided that keeping an irate, overheated Hokage waiting any longer was dangerous, and let the issue go. “Hurry up then,” he said. “Baa-chan mentioned something about wanting you to use a shadow technique to give her more shade…” 

::~:: 

He didn’t see the troublesome blonde kunoichi again for the rest of the examinations due to his sticking unusually close to the Hokage, for once fulfilling all his duties as advisor and part of the Hokage’s escort. He wasn’t sure if he was entirely relieved; it only meant she’d corner him again later with pent-up … enthusiasm. He understood the way her thought processes went more than he cared to admit. 

It was only because he had to get inside her mind to outsmart her, think one step ahead of her, like he would with the mind of an enemy. He was practicing the skills he needed as an advisor and tactician to the Hokage. 

Oh, who was he kidding? He groaned as he sunk into the blessedly-cool sheets of his bed. He was irrefutably attracted to the intelligent, conniving, _sexy_ kunoichi who had seemed to decide her goal in life was to make him miserable. Couldn’t she be more timid and sweet? Like Hinata. Hinata was sweet. She was a nice girl who wasn’t troublesome at all. 

But he didn’t feel an iota of attraction towards Hyuga Hinata. 

He sighed in frustration. He was really doomed to the same fate as his father, wasn’t he? Doomed to marry a troublesome, bossy, controlling woman who would take over every aspect of his life … but he would love her despite all his complaints. 

His head jerked up. _Love her?_

Shit, how heat-exhausted was he? 

He fumbled around in the medical pack given to every jounin in the case of an emergency. But before he could find the thermometer, there was an insistent tapping on his window… 

Oh gods, was he hallucinating now too? 

There she was, the girl of his nightmares, perched on the ledge of his window. And she looked magnificent. She was wearing that same tight black outfit, but this time she had a thick red obi around her waist, emphasizing her generous proportions. Even Ino would be jealous. Her legs were bare; strong thighs tapered into smooth, slender calves. Her skin was pale, unlike most of the other Suna-nin, contrasting with her dark, emerald eyes… 

Those dark eyes were glaring – his commendable skills of deduction told him it was probably because he’d spent too long ogling her. 

He hastily rolled off the bed to open the window, not wanting to face her wrath if he refused to let her in. 

Specks of sand flew into the pristine room immediately, courtesy of the desert wind, and when Temari brushed herself off, there was a fairly apparent littering of sand on the carpet. Shikamaru sighed. 

“The door is probably safer to go through, given that we’re on the ninth floor of a sandcastle,” he informed her as he shut the window with a loud click. 

Temari snorted inelegantly, but the way she perched gracefully on his bed, the Hand trailing possessively over the pillow he’d slept on last night, made up for that prior inelegance. Her slender legs were drawn up to her chest as she reclined against the headrest of the bed. 

He was uncomfortably aware that the last time he’d seen her, she’d had that Hand halfway down his pants in an international examination for the next generation of cold-blooded killers. 

She seemed to have no such qualms and even looked at him strangely when he opted to sit on the corner of the bed furthest from her. 

“So how come you were hiding from me these past few days?” she asked, arching an eyebrow delicately. Her tone was even but for a slight crack at the end of the question. He noticed it, but decided not to comment. 

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” he lied irritably. “I was actually doing my duties as Junior Advisor. It’s troublesome, but I’m required to attend all the meetings.” 

She studied him intensely for a moment, then looked away. “It’s good that at least you’re taking your duties seriously for once.” 

Her gaze was fixed at some invisible spot on the immaculate sheets. He frowned. She was avoiding his gaze now? But something else was bothering him. 

“How did you find out where I’m living?” he asked suspiciously. 

Temari coughed conspicuously, and his suspicion intensified. “I… I may have taken a look at the lists.” Seeing his glare, she said defensively, “I didn’t knock out the guards, if that’s what you’re thinking. Just spoke to them. Nicely.” Translation: she’d blackmailed the guards. 

So she’d invaded his privacy and stalked him. He sighed impassively. His lack of indignation was probably a good testament to the extent of psychological damage she’d already inflicted upon him; he was desensitized to her utter lack of concern for his privacy. 

“You look good in your jonin outfit, by the way,” she said in an offhand way, but he realized she had been studying him closely. 

He blinked at the comment, cheeks colouring slightly. “Thanks,” he muttered bemusedly. There were many things he wanted to say about _her_ outfit – none that he could say out loud without bursting into flames from embarrassment. “Was that the reason you wanted me to become a jonin?” he joked weakly, remembering her comment to him many years ago. 

A short bark of laughter. “No,” she said, then hesitated, expression sobering. She looked up at him, almost warily… “That was because I didn’t want to feel like a depraved pedophile when I did this.” 

“Did wha – _mmph!_ ” 

Soft lips touched his as she suddenly leaned forward on the bed, but she was surprisingly gentle. Shy, almost. His mind was blank and reeling with surprise. His pulse quickened and his body grew warmer. 

Reflexively, one of his hands sank into the bed to brace him; the other settled instinctively on the nape of her neck, tangling in soft blonde curls. She seemed to take this as a sign of acquiescence from him, because her hand fisted in his mesh shirt and her kiss grew more passionate – she slid her tongue against his lips and he parted them unthinkingly. Big mistake: the taste of her invaded his senses, and the delicious assault of her tongue was almost too much for his brain to process. 

She leaned into him further, pushing him to lie back on the bed; he complied easily – he wasn’t the type to give up a chance to do _less_ – and her beryl eyes met his unflinchingly as she straddled his hips. 

He was panting. Raw, unbridled desire was coursing through him – something he’d never experienced before, and something he didn’t care to ever experience again. It was the most troublesome feeling he’d ever had, but at this moment, all he wanted to do was give into it. 

But he couldn’t do it. 

It didn’t feel right. He wasn’t one to believe in the power of love, courting rituals, or sappy romance crap, but this was too mindless, too impersonal. He wanted a transparent relationship and much more mutual understanding between them before they went any further than this. 

He sighed as the desire ebbed to a standstill by sheer will. She noticed it when he regained his self-control, and this time she didn’t push him. She extricated her limbs from his with a frown, and sat back on the bed, knees drawn up again. He tried to ignore the fact that her dress had ridden up significantly. 

“That’s never failed before,” she mumbled, seemingly to herself. He looked up at her desolate tone and took note of her bleak expression. 

“What do you mean?” 

Her lips tightened. “Can’t you tell?” she demanded. “I’ve been trying to seduce you for the past week, dimwit.” She rolled her eyes at his blank expression. 

Numb, he scratched his head in obvious discomfort. He was confused. _Why me?_

“They say if you can seduce a man, he’ll love you back eventually…” 

Horrified, she clapped a hand to her mouth, as if she swallow the words she had just uttered. 

He stared at her. 

_Love her … back?_

Shit. He had to confess, or else he feared she would start crying. And as a man, he couldn’t simply make her cry. 

But she wasn’t done yet. “Fuck! But you and your goddamned self-control … I miscalculated,” she admitted angrily. “I thought you were like other men and that I could make you love me, but in the end, I’ve just made a fucking fool out of myself.” 

Tears threatened to spill from her striking eyes, and Shikamaru panicked. 

When he panicked, he did things he usually wouldn’t do, and that was how he found himself initiating the Kiss with her. The Kiss that would make the change in their relationship irreversible. 

The Kiss was sweet, tender, and a tad bit desperate. It was awkward too, because he was the initiator and she was the shell-shocked one. 

“Look, you could have never _made_ me love you,” he told her evenly at the end of the Kiss, despite his pulse racing in synchrony with hers. “That’s because… it’s troublesome, but I already kind of did.” 

It had to be the lamest confession in the history of confessions, but her stunned expression slowly morphed into one of elation. 

“Really?” she said breathlessly, beryl eyes seeking confirmation. 

His shoulder lifted in a shrug. “Yep.” 

She tackled him with a hug, forgetting that he was sitting on the edge of the bed, and the two of them tumbled to the floor with breathless laughs. Another miscalculation. They ended up with Shikamaru leaning over Temari’s form, tangled in the white sheets that trailed from the bed. 

Slowly, he rose from the ground and proffered a hand to help her stand. She looked confused as she asked, “Where are we going?” 

“Well, if you _want_ , we could go on our first date,” he suggested lightly. 

She arched an eyebrow at him. “ _Now_ you’re asking me out?” 

He shrugged. “That’s what the man’s supposed to do: make the first move. So will you go out with me?” 

She scoffed. This was _far_ from the first move. But still, she accepted his proffered hand. 

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

::~:: 

_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> YAY Shikatema is my fave sorta-canon pairing. I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing this! Kudos and comments are appreciated.


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